


I Don’t Think I Can Do This Anymore

by RandomFanfictions



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Bullying, Depression, Hurt Peter Parker, Insomnia, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Suicidal Thoughts, Tony Stark Has A Heart, change my mind, i do this to myself really, i know I put him through hell and back but he’s my bby, it hurts me more than it hurts you, slight eating disorder, sry peter, tony stark is a dad, why do i keep writing angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-04-29 10:29:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14470689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomFanfictions/pseuds/RandomFanfictions
Summary: Wake up.Get dressed.Skip breakfast.Go to class.Get bulliedSkip lunch.Crime fight.Go home.Skip dinner.Crime fight.Go to bed late.Routine. Routine. Routine.Be as wreckless as possible but it’s all apart of the routine.Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine.He can’t do this anymore.





	I Don’t Think I Can Do This Anymore

**Author's Note:**

> woops I did not proofread this so I’m sorry for inconsistencies or grammar/spelling errors

The alarm clock blared loudly, waking him up from his sleep. He quickly got up, turning off the alarm before it would wake up Aunt May. She needs as much sleep as possible, so he tries to not wake her up before 7 if he can help it. 

Peter stretched, the room feeling distant and fuzzy while doing so. His eyesight blurred for a moment and it appeared to be going dark before it went away. Just a side affect of low blood sugar, but he doesn’t want to do anything about it. It’s kind of fun anyways. 

After throwing on a hoodie and some jeans, he tied his shoes and silently made his way to the living room to gather his things before pulling out his phone to check the news. Articles appear with the face of Spider-Man and headliners talking about the lastest robbery he stopped or drug dealers he found.

He smiled. Even though every breath was a battle and thoughts were entire wars, this was the one good thing he really had left to keep him fighting for life. 

The floorboards creaked and he checked the time, 6:57 am. Peter jumped up and immediately pulled out an unused bowl and spoon to wash. They were already clean, still housed in the cupboard, but he pretended that he had eaten breakfast and now was washing dishes, right?

“Morning, Peter” his aunt smiled softly

“Morning, May” he replied “I’m heading out soon so I can be there early to meet with Ned and figure out what movies we wanna watch on Saturday for our epic movie marathon” he said, trying to match her smile with one of his own, which didn't seem to reach his eyes

"Alright, be safe out there, tell Ned I say hi" she walks lazily to the coffee machine and makes herself a cup

"M'kay, see you at 4" he opens the door and begins to walk out

"Actually I'm taking the late shift today, I won't be back until 2 or 3 in the morning" May calls out to him as he leaves

"Cool, love you, see you later then"

"Love you too, bye"

Peter made it all the way to the subway, managing to get a seat (something that's almost impossible to do here in New York) and his body thanks him for it. It's probably been a few days since he last ate an actual meal. Every now and then he eats dinner with May or pulls out the five he has in his wallet to eat lunch, but usually he tries not to. Because of that, his hands always seem a little shaky and standing is much more of a challenge than it should be. Especially when he also burns up hundreds of calories being Spider-Man.

He knows its not healthy, most importantly he's got an enhanced metabolism, so he should be eating twice to three times as much as regular people. Yet he doesn't.

The teen makes it to school without any other problems and grabs stuff from his locker, grabbing a notebook and writing some half-assed homework that he definitely didn’t want to do.

In his opinion, it was a little funny when his favorite teacher had gotten on his case about homework. ‘You’re smart, Peter, but you can’t be lazy’ the science teacher had told him. 

The kid remembers laughing internally because _I would do my homework if I actually had motivation, but I don’t and I could care less if I failed_

Now, Peter was just finishing scribbling down some dumb formula for his physics class and put it away, grabbing the rest of his things. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a small, leather bound notebook. He decided to take it, today might be a bad day after all. 

————

It was a bad day. 

There were exactly 7 times where he almost cried in the middle of class and that was not fun at all. 

Not a good day at all. 

The teen mentally kicked himself for being so upset for no reason. Hopefully no one else saw, if they did, no one was acting any different.

He tried blaming it on the lack of sleep, because getting about an hour (maybe two if his insomnia allowed it) was probably not enough for him. 

It was probably lack of sleep. 

Come lunch time, Peter decided to hang out at the library to stay away from everyone because he just couldn’t handle any more random intense sadness. From yesterday being entirely numb and wanting to feel any emotion at all to today where it feels like he’s feeling everything all at once, he’d definitely take the first option. 

When he had hidden in the library, he decided to pull out the old worn leather notebook he had taken from his locker only hours ago. 

He laid it flat across the table, it was probably a little larger than his hand and over half of the pages had already been filled. 

Peter took out a pen and began to write. 

Not like a diary exactly, more like a poetry journal or a place to throw his thoughts. Uncle Ben gave him this book when he turned 13, he had mentioned that he always had ideas for things but would forget when he got home to write it down. 

He only likes to write in it now when everything feels to built up. Sometimes he writes beautifully written lines. Words that craft paintings in the mind’s eye that rivals a renaissance painter’s own talent. Other times, he can only write one word at a time. 

_why why why why why why why why_

Today was one of those times. 

His mind went blank and all cognitive thought had been replaced with the rhythmatic sound of the pen in his hand writing the same word over and over. 

His brain plugged directly through to the pen and not even double checking with the brain to confirm what he wants to write. 

It’s completely mindless.

No thought in it at all. 

_no no no no no no no no_

The ink smudges slightly under his hand and he completely goes on autopilot. He probably writes the same word over and over about fifty times before it changes again

_wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong_

The bell rings, snapping the boy from his work. He puts the book away and gets his things for the last couple of classes. 

Can’t wait for another two hours of torture. 

————

Getting home was almost a sigh of relief. It only got worse after lunch, his stomach hurt and he felt like throwing up. He could hardly even look straight. 

It doesn’t matter. He still needs to fight crime. Other people don’t get breaks, neither does he. 

Luckily for him, aunt May won’t be back, so that means he can just be Spider-Man until she comes home. He suited up and started swinging away. It was probably a really bad idea, actually, scratch that. He _knows_ it's a really bad idea to go out when he can hardly walk to the apartment without feeling like he was about to pass out, so it didn't come to much of a surprise when he collapsed right after stopping a robbery(barely).

The only thing that really saved him in the end was his spidey sense and sheer adrenaline. He webbed up the guy and had to rush of to some rooftop where he could inspect the damage, but his vision just pretty much went all black as he touched the floor. When he came to, he could vaguely recognize Karen saying something to him.

"Peter, it appears that you fell unconscious due to sleep deprivation and malnutrition. I advise that you take a break, would you like me to contact Mr. Stark?" 

"You said the same thing earlier - minus the unconscious part - I already told you I'm fine" he says hastily, trying to get himself back up into a sitting position. God his head really hurt. Migraines suck.

"My logs show an increasing trend of sleep deprivation and malnutrition. Are you feeling okay, Peter?" the cool robotic voice almost sounds worried. Hah, trust Tony Freaking Stark to make an AI that can worry about someone's mental state.

"Why wouldn't I be" he grunts, remembering that he totally took a bullet just a few minutes ago in the bank "Hey is the bullet still in my leg?" he asks the suit, noticing no exit wound

"Yes, would you like me to contact Mr. Stark for medical attention?" 

"Would you stop it with trying to call Mr. Stark already?" he responds angrily

"I'm sorry, Peter, it's just apart of my protocol" 

He instantly feels regret for being mean to the AI, after all, Karen only does what she's programmed to do, he feels his eyes sting from tears that want to show up and he mentally kicks himself. Shit, he feels bad for being mean to a fricken _robot_? God what's wrong with him today.

He sighs "Just..make calling Mr. Stark a last resort option, okay?"

"Of course"

After he webbed up the bullet wound so he could deal with it later, he continued to clean the streets of Queens from low life criminals and thugs with only a couple more stab wounds that he normally gets. The teen makes it home early, feeling way to light headed to deal with any more crap. He can just do more hours tomorrow. 

On the refrigerator, there's a note from May informing him that there's leftovers he could reheat. His stomach lurches and thinking about eating anything makes him feel sick, so he goes into the bathroom, finds some tweezers and removes the bullet, changes his clothes, then grabs the takeout box from that Thai place and walks all the way outside to the homeless man sitting at the curb and offers it.

He stumbles twice going back up the stairs and catches himself on the railing. Maybe Karen was right, he _should_ probably eat something, but nothing too much. Peter makes his way back to the kitchen and grabs an orange. They have enough sugar to bring up his blood sugar and they don't really have any calories. He remembers reading some article on zero calorie foods and oranges were on the list, so basically it takes more energy to burn it up than it gets from the orange.

Sounds like a safe bet.

By the time he goes back to his room, its almost 1 and he realizes that he's got two major tests tomorrow. Fuck it, he can't focus right now, it feels like Peter's brain is going a million miles a second and trying to focus on something won't work. He settles for sitting down on the floor with his arms wrapped around his knees as he stares at the clock then it all just hits him.

He doesn't know what happened, but it was just like earlier that day when it felt like everything just came and hit him full force. Waves of emotions were crashing down and it felt suffocating. 

All of the sudden, he was thinking about how he almost cried because someone was giving a speech and they talked about a security blanket and getting out of your comfort zone. _Why_ did the reference to a security blanket completely make him fall apart, he doesn't know, but everything from today came flooding back. Flash calling him names hurt so much more, but it was the same thing he says every day. Ned told him that they had to push the movie marathon to next weekend and he wanted to cry. Getting called on and not knowing the answer? Rereading old texts that Happy never responded to? Reading a book and finding out his favorite character died? At least the last one seemed a little more reasonable to cry about.

For some reason, it felt like the entire day had try to make him break for the tiniest things and now that he wasn't doing something, he was completely vulnerable to the thoughts creeping up behind him.

In the back of his mind, he wished he had his notebook or something, but he left it back in his locker. There was nothing left to do but to try and not completely break down. He thought about calling Ned, but he knows he'd be asleep by now, so he sat alone, trying to keep everything inside, until he eventually moved to lay on his bed, never falling asleep.

Not when he heard May walk in, trying desperately to keep her footsteps quiet, or until he could hear her almost silent snores. His brain never let him rest, a sick feeling and a twisted, throbbing dull ache keeping him company until somewhere around 5:45, his eyes finally closed.

\----

That's how the next two weeks went. May's hours had officially been changed, she worked the late shift now, but only because they gave more money and they could really use it. At school, he would either completely isolate himself, or hang out with his friends and try to pretend he wasn't ready to crumble at a moment's notice. Sometimes, if he were lucky, he wouldn't have the never ending crashing waves of emotion, but instead be completely numb to everything. Complete utter apathy. It began to almost hurt the same as feeling everything at once, it's hard to tell which one is better at this point.

Peter likes to consider it all apart of his newfound routine. Tries to calm himself, telling his mind that feeling this way was just apart of his routine. 

He sits alone at the library again, the notebook out with a pen in hand writing out in cursive with one concise movement.

_Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine._

He wakes up.  
Get dressed.  
Skip breakfast.  
Go to class.  
Get bullied  
Skip lunch.  
Crime fight.  
Go home.  
Skip dinner.  
Crime fight.  
Go to bed late. 

_Routine. Routine. Routine._

Be as wreckless as possible but it’s all apart of the routine. 

_Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine._

He continues to write the word over and over, its therapeutic, but soon, he notices that its not really working anymore. It's not calming him down or keeping thoughts at bay. A month goes by and he continues living like this, but it's not really living. 

Peter narrowly misses death every time he puts on the suit because of how sloppy he's becoming. He could care less if he dropped dead on the job and now he was breaking down almost every night.

Two months pass and its even worse. He texts Happy every once and a while to keep up his charade, but really, it feels like the worse he gets, the more normal he tries to act on the outside. Fake smiles, laughter, jokes, nice clean clothes. It's like he's trying to polish the outside armor, pretending that the inside isn't completely destroyed and no one seems to ever notice. Only in the comforts of his own home does he finally let himself be released from the firm grasp that he created to make sure no one notices his struggles.

Peter had no motivation to do anything and now his life has become just one big cover up and it’s frustrating. He barely makes it by with low C’s, not doing work, skipping classes, getting chewed out by the teachers. If you want to know he truth, he’s only on survival mode. Had to log into May’s email and tell the school to change her information to another email he made up. She wouldn’t have to worry about detentions or grades or anything else now. He cheated on tests almost all the time, not bothering to listen in class or take notes. 

He never got caught, but the teachers always were a little suspicious when he could score an 88% after failing all the previous tests. And again when they also thought he was cutting class, which he was. All he had to do was show up, get attendance marked, then he would manage to slip out of the room while everyone was busy. 

Every now and again, the teachers would get mad at him. Call him after class, give him detentions, threaten to call his aunt. It only made him feel worse. Only made him even more wreckless. Only made him get even more hurt.

Mr. Stark has only called once to come over and work on the suit, but he doesn't want to go anywhere.

He doesn't think he can make it all the way through without breaking down and he can't let Mr. Stark see that. 

He's fine.

Everything's fine. 

It's all fine, except for the fact that he really feels like he can't keep living like this because its not even living at all.

Now, the teen sits again, staring at the alarm clock pulling at his hair and letting the tears fall down his face. He wants to scream and cry and shout because everything hurts so bad. His life sucks and no matter how much good he does, it feels like there's always bad that pulls him back to the start. His arms are wrapped around his torso with his hands holding his back and his elbows pointed out as he tugs himself downwards letting his silent cries fill his brain.

For a moment, he's able to stop himself. Collect his thoughts before he explodes all over again, like the calm before a storm. 

He pulls out his phone while trying to keep his sniffles silent and clicks on a contact. Over the past week, he's found himself typing the same sentence, hovering over the send button but never quite working up the courage to press it. 

Tonight, though? Bad day - bad day, bad week, bad month, really it's just been a bad lifetime. 

_I don't think I can do this anymore_ He types and presses send without any hesitation, but as soon as he does it, Peter's eyes go wide in realization as he notices that he didn't send it to Ned, he clicked the wrong text conversation and sent it directly to Happy. For a second, he starts freaking out, he put the phone on airplane mode so that whatever follow up messages show up, he wouldn't see them, but soon the panic died down a little.

Happy's never responded before, why would he start now. He probably blocked his number anyways.

Didn't matter, he kept his phone in airplane mode, terrified of what would happen if he put it back online. The rest of the night he remained how he had been before, the adrenaline of the text having make him coil inward on himself in stress before breaking down over again.

"I can't do this" he whispered to himself so quietly that he almost made no sound at all "I really can't"

\----

The next morning he had left even earlier to school. Aunt May was asleep still, she usually doesn't wake up until noon or something now with her hours. Peter decided to walk this morning, because if he was walking, he would be doing something that isn't being on a subway looking at his phone. It was of course still in airplane mode and his irrational fear that Happy would've seen it or that Mr. Stark might be worried..it was dumb, he knew it was. 

They didn't really care about him, he knows they don't.

He should've never broken the routine.

When he finally makes it to school, he's almost relieved to be back inside the building. It almost feels safe to be there, knowing that all he had to do now was fake it through the day and everything would be normal by the time he got home.

He got through his classes just fine and hung out in the cafeteria acting like his old self with his friends, forcing back his anxiety and fears with laughter and smiles. Ned asked him if he wanted to come over to work on the new lego Star Wars X-Wing Pilot over the weekend, the teen wanted to say no, that he didn't want to, but he agreed because that's what the old Peter would've done. 

For the most part, it was a pretty normal Friday, well, it was until he walked out of school and saw a familiar black sports car from the corner of his eye. Great, and just when he had convinced himself that they wouldn't see and that everything would go back to how it was.

The kid immediately looked straight down to the floor, and started walking fast pass the car, begging that they wouldn't see him. 

It didn't work.

“Peter Parker!” He heard his name being called but he didn’t turn around once. 

The teen kept walking even faster, picking up a jog as he tried to figure out the best path to some crowded area where they wouldn’t be able to see him. 

Unfortunately, it was just his luck that the car started driving alongside the sidewalk and parked a little more ahead of himself. He was about ready to turn around and go the other way but Mr. Stark had gotten out of the car and called his name again. 

No escape this time. 

“Mr. Peter Parker, would you so kindly take a seat in the vehicle” he announced, sounding slightly annoyed

Peter had no other option so he just turn his head downwards and obliged, getting in the car and curling in on himself and messing with the frayed ends of his hoodie. 

Happy glances over at the kid from the drivers seat, but said nothing. It was Stark who decided to speak up first.

“I called your aunt, told her I was picking you up to work on some suit modifications” he says flatly, trying to sound calm. Really, it was just his way of managing anxiety. 

When you get a call at 2 in the morning from a very panicked sounding Happy, you already _know_ something’s wrong. Apparently, the itsy bitsy spider had sent the man a text message only a few minutes earlier and wasn’t responding. The billionaire tried telling him that maybe he was referring to being Spider-Man, and he was out late and hopefully it was related to being sleepy and wanting to go home? 

It was a reach, so when he had checked the suit’s logs, he began panicking. Peter hadn’t been sleeping or eating and Karen had put some notes on how he kept passing out or was being extremely wreckless and most importantly, m he didn’t sound mentally okay. Not wack job crazy, but depressed teenager.

He had almost flown all the way over to the kid’s apartment, instead he had just called up May and asked how they were both doing, not wanting to immediately shout ‘I think Peter’s trying to commit suicide or something’ because again, that might not be the case at all. 

He finds out that she’s been taking late shifts and that yeah she just got home, he’s sleeping soundly in his room. 

The immediate threat had left, but he was still worried so he told her that he’d pick up the squirt and they’d work on stuff in the lab. 

When Tony had come to pick up the teen, he watched Peter walk out of school, look at the car, tense up and start walking in the complete opposite direction. 

God this kid is going to be the death of him.

They had started driving again and got a little ahead of where it looked like he was going before Tony got out of the car. For a second, he was worried that the spider long would try running, but after calling his full name, he had gotten in. 

Tony had slightly winced at his own words, he sounded angry, but truth was that he was going crazy out of his mind with worry and since he does not know how to control his emotions, like, _at all_ , he ended up just sounding pissed off. Now, the vehicle was filled with silence as they drove to the compound. 

————

Peter had every intention to keep extremely silent and hope that Mr. Stark would just let him go home if he did nothing at all, unfortunately for him, life doesn’t seem to work like that for him. The second the elevator doors opened, the Billionaire had them both sit down on the couch and began asking questions. 

“Hey kid, what was that whole text about, you really freaked Happy and I both out”

...

“Peter, I need you to talk to me”

“I didn’t mean to send it” he mumbles, staring at his hands

The man watches intently as the boy’s body folds in on itself, much different to how he normally acts, loud, vibrant and all over the place. 

Actually, now that he’s looking at him better, he can see how pale he is, his skin so sickly white it makes a stark contrast to the dark blue bruises of his sunken eyes. Sure, he wasn’t wearing old, ugly and dirty clothes like you’d expect from someone who’s supposed to be depressed, but they do look too big on him. They’re barely hanging onto his small frame. His cheeks are hallow from malnutrition. Instantly, he feels guilt. How did he not notice things sooner. God, this is so bad. 

“What do you mean?” 

“..I-I meant for it to be for Ned, but uh, I never meant to send it” 

“Can you explain more?”

Honestly, Peter wishes that he could just fling himself out that window, anything would be better than being here right now. With every question, he shrunk further and further into his sweater that was too big for his starving body. 

“I guess I just got worked up a-and, I don’t know..I never mean to actually send those texts it-it was just a hard night” he shrugs

“It looks like you’ve been having a lot of hard nights, kiddo. I looked at your suits logs and well, do you need to talk?” Mr. Stark starts, he rubs his neck and looks almost embarrassed. Who wouldn’t be, Peter was an utter disgrace, who would even want to ask him how he was feeling. 

“I’m fine” he mumbles, making a move to stand up, but a hand on his shoulder keeps him down

“No, kid, you’re really not. I don’t think even May has gotten a good look of you in a while because coming from the guy who has no sense of self preservation, you look like actual shit”

“Really, Mr. Stark, I’m fine” he says a little more forcefully, meeting the eyes of his mentor for the first time in months. 

Tony almost flinches when he sees that there’s no spark in his eyes, no color, no meaning, _no happiness_ in them. His eyes carry a haunted look, one that no teenaged kid should ever have to wear. It hurts him to know this. 

“Karen told me that you don’t eat-“

“-I’m not hungry-” he cuts in

“-that you don’t sleep-” Tony continues

“-Not tired-” he adds again

“-And that you don’t sound happy”

This time, Peter doesn’t say anything, he looks up almost as if he’s asking for permission to stand up and leave the conversation.

He sighs “I’m fine, I promise”

“Are you happy?”

...

It takes a moment before the kid answers. He begins playing with the edges of his sweater again, a nervous tick he seems to have developed. 

“Not really”

Then all of the sudden, the kid’s behavior does a complete 180. Tony’s sure that he’s got whiplash from how fast everything shifted. The teen’s attitude had shifted dramatically, he sits up straight and begins to talk with his usual charming and chattery tone with a fake smile plastered on his face. 

“But I mean, it’s fine, we all get rough patches, Mr. Stark, really I mean it, I’m fine. I didn’t mean to worry you or Happy, I was just having a rough night and I meant to text Ned and I kinda freaked out so I turned my phone off, I promise everything’s okay” He tries to get up to leave again but the man once again, stops him from leaving. Another feeling he had grown accustomed to had begun to creep into his mind. Anger. 

“Peter, please, just by looking at you I can tell that I should’ve been worrying a long time ago, talk to me kid”

_Yeah. You should’ve been worried a long time ago but it’s too late for that now_

God, his head hurt so bad right now.

“Mister Stark, I’m fine, please just let me go home” he says, upset because only now does the man seem to take an interest with the kid. 

Only after he’s at the worse point in his life and is about ready to end it. So _no_ he’s not going to fucking break in front of Tony Stark because Tony Stark doesn’t want nor need to associate with someone like Peter. 

“I had Happy tell May that you’d be staying for the weekend” the man confessed, hoping that this might get some sort of reaction from the kid. 

Unfortunately, it was not the reaction he was looking for. 

“Sir, I would like to go home” his voice shook slightly and he couldn’t tell if it was from sadness or rage. 

“Peter, I’m sorry but you’re giving me no choice, either you tell me what’s wrong now or I’ll have to talk to your aunt”

That’s it. 

That’s fucking it. 

“Fine” he shouts “Fine! If you want to know what’s wrong so badly, here it is!” He extends his arms outwards and moves around exasperatedly 

“What should we start with first, oh yeah! How about we star with the fact that I’m basically an orphan and I’m the reason why my uncle is dead! My metabolism requires me to eat so much and I know I’m going to end up fat so I just don’t eat, but at least aunt May doesn’t have to pay for food right?” Peter can feel tears prick his eyes but he forces them back as he continues 

“Flash is an absolute dick to me, but he does have a point. I keep getting nightmares about Homecoming night so insomnia is a regular occurance” 

He laughs bitterly to himself

“Oh have I mentioned how I just can’t seem to focus anymore? Yeah that’s a big problem. I sit down in class and I feel like I’m in a dream rather than reality and being forced to sit in one spot for an hour makes me feel worse so now I’m just skipping class and I’m also failing all my tests”

A hit angry tear falls down his face and he swiped it away immediately. 

“The only way I can keep myself at this stupid school with my dumb fucking scholarship because I’m poor is with my grades so I have to cheat if I want to stay here. The only coping mechanisms I have aren’t helping and everything gets worse by the second! You never cared about my life before, why the hell do you care now?!” the teen waits for the man to say something. 

Tony is completely speechless. What the hell is he supposed to say here

Peter only seems to get even more upset at his lack of words

“There! You wanted to know what the fuck was wrong with me, there it is. Now can I go home, _Sir_?” He bites harshly

“I’m sorry” Mr. Stark says

It takes the teen off guard. Out of all the things he expected his mentor to say, Peter didn’t see this coming. 

“What?” His explosive body language deflated a bit

“You heard me, I’m sorry Peter. I should’ve kept a better eye on you, and now you’re paying the price”

“No, this isn’t your problem. That’s the thing. It never was and it never should be. You don’t _need_ to keep an eye on me, this is my problem, I deal with it” his voice picks up the more he talks, regaining the need to fight. To just let it out. Let everything out. 

“Peter, please don’t think this is just something for you to handle by yourself, you look like you’ve been to hell and back, let me help you” the man tells him with a softness in his time that the kid don’t expect

Peter wants to keep arguing. To scream until his throat is raw and to kick and cry and fight. He wants to keep being angry, but now it’s getting harder to stay like that. 

Actually, it’s getting harder to feel anything right now as he becomes aware of how badly he’s starved himself and deprived his body of sleep.

His head is spinning and he wants a hug and his legs are shaking while black spots dance around the room. 

Next thing he knows it, the kid is being caught by a pair of strong, steadying arms. 

He vaguely hears someone telling him to just sleep. 

“Get some rest, kiddo”

Rest. Rest sounds good.

Yeah, sounds great. 

“I’ll still be here with you when you wake up” he hears distantly. 

And with that, he closed his eyes and let’s everything go to black.

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn’t think of a better ending, sorry, I just needed to get this out.  
> So idk if you can tell but this was a little bit of a vent thing for me. I feel rly dumb for saying this but like fictional characters are my way of coping, like not just the fanfics but that helps a lot too. I’m lame for doing this, ik but I pretend that there’s these alternate dimensions where they exist and I can talk to them or whatever and then IW came and destroyed that so the past couple of weeks have been pretty bad without my main form of coping (thanks Marvel!!) and yeah most of the stuff that happens here is literally pulled straight from my life (minus Spider-Man or someone to talk to. Just the angst part that leads up the the text to happy) so expect a muhc higher amount of angst than normal bc I’m just feeling that Depression rn.


End file.
